Sunday, August 20, 2006

I got out my magnifying glass, and it's them. This picture is them on Next Creek. So-called, I imagine because it's next to Tye. Where Ger and Kerri have a cabin, which they didn't use, but camped next to Next Creek. I think they must be next in line for the looney bin myself.

I love Ger. I have to take run and a jump just to get in his truck. But not a prob.

So I get dropped off at Comforts to meet Ger for dinner. Yay. After I've somehow got into his truck he starts talking. I wanted to tell Ger about my life, but he wouldn't let me. Jabber, jabber, jabber, hello, jabber, jabber, jabber, help, jabber, jabber, I have six hours to live before I succumb to cancer, jabber, jabber, jabber. And this was before he even put the key in the ignition.

Jabber, jabber, jabber, ger take a breath, jabber, jabber, jabber: "ger" yes uncle don?" "start the truck". It was good though, it's always nice to know that I'm not the most insane member of the Storm Clan: "Justin?" "yes uncle don" "your dad is weird, well not really weird, insane, and completely out of it" "he's a virgo" "oh yeah, he's weird and insane in a good way, isn't he, I've always admired him".

So Ger left me a phone message last night wishing me a happy birthday. With the accent, I thought it was Chief Sitting Bull (speaking of b.s. and he was probably sitting down at the time).

10. I no longer have to help old ladies across the street.09. I've already learned everything the hard way.08. No one bothers to phone me after 9 pm anymore.07. My joints can predict the weather better than any meteorologist.06. Spandex doesn't suit me (not that it ever did mind you).05. I can flirt with the cute gals at work and they never take offence (this very well could be numero uno or even higher, hello). I could go on here, but suffice to say they all treat me good.04. See above.03. I'm finally starting to ignore those speedo-clad cyclists whom pass me on the street as I'm biking to work in the morning. And they have these stupid caps on. They are a perfect example of the lower life form. Where are they rushing to? And obviously they don't have jobs. Where do they get the money to buy their great bikes and the stupid clothes they wear? It's a good thing I'm not a cab driver because if I was, they wouldn't exist (at least not in Toronto). And they never smile. I think their spandex must be too tight. I pulled alongside one last week on Bloor: 'hi, nice day aye?' 'huh?' 'nice day' 'huh?' 'do you have a brain?' 'huh?' "it's been nice chatting with you, wherever are you going I wish you would get there'. 'duh'.02. In my elderly age I'm finally (more or less) able to ignore my neighbours who own dogs. I'm old-fashioned, but I wouldn't mind it if there was a Max or Kodiak among them. I'm never sure who is more uppity, the dogs or the owners. It's normal in my neighbourhood for me to say: 'what breed is that?" And typically I get an answer like"it's a Sheershorn Tibitan Wimpletwit" "whom?" "it's very rare" "does it bark?" "no, not anymore" "does it sniff?" "no" "does it retrieve?" "not that I know of" "What the hell good is it then?" "I can walk it at 4:30 am" "let me get this straight, you have a Sheershorn Tibitan Wimpletwit and it doesn't bark, sniff and/or retrieve and you get up at 4:15 am to walk it?" "someone has to" "you have money to burn don't you?" "scads"01. Having a mind that still works (knock on wood a thousand times).

The Great, Esteemed, His Highness, Grand Poobah in a contemplative mood. He's thinking: 'I've only got sixteen more days before I drink again. I'm almost over the hangover from twelve days ago.' And of course: 'why is my house moving?'. Not to mention: 'it's time for my 59th nap of the day'.

It's hard to believe a person of his stature would want to raise Jim, Ger, Kev and Julie.

(editor's note: I've been trying to upload this picture for months but it wouldn't work for some reason. I love this picture. Thank you Julie)